“Mo chroí, I mean it. And every other time I’ve told you how beautiful you are. You. Are. Perfect.”
Her cheeks darken and those rich brown eyes are full of doubt. If I could have any super power, it would be for Layla Diaz to see herself through my eyes. I don’t know what it’s like to be a woman, let alone a woman with a full figure in a world where being beautiful is defined by how thin you are.
“What does your ex look like?” Layla asks suddenly.
“My ex?” I’m completely flummoxed.
“Yeah,” she says. “What does she look like? Is she tall or short? Blonde hair or dark hair? That kind of stuff.”
“I mean, yeah, she’s tall and blonde, but what does that have…”
“Is she skinny or curvy?
“Layla…” I’m beginning to see where this is going, and I don’t like it one bit.
“Please just answer the question,” she begs, her voice beginning to tremble.
Sighing deeply, I say, “I will tell you whatever you want to know, but I want you to listen to me. There is no comparison.”
“You’re stalling…”
“Jaysus, you’re persistent,” I tease her. “Fine. Ashley is tall, blonde, and thin. But she’s also a cheating bitch, one that didn’t have the decency to talk to me when she started to feel our relationship going south.”
Layla opens her mouth to say something, but I push my index finger against her pillowy lips. “Just leave it, Lovely.”
She squeezes her eyes shut tight. “Teagan, I don’t think you understand. Regardless of what you say, or how you feel, that doesn’t stop the little voice in my brain that tells me I’ll never live up to your standards. I am the complete opposite of your ex, who apparently is the type you’re into since you dated for so long.” She sighs, shoulders drooping in defeat. “I’ll never be tall, skinny,orblonde. And while you make me feel sexy and desired when we’re together, I can’t help but feel that if you had to choose a girl out of alineup based on looks alone? You wouldn’t choose me.”
My heart plummets. It isn’t because she’s right, but because she truly believes that. I wish I could go back to when I first met Ashley and lose her number. Had I known that Layla Diaz was in my future, I would have waited for her.
Tipping her head up, I hold her gaze. “The day we met, I watched Eamon run across the field to Norah. But from the moment I saw you standing there, I never looked away. I couldn’t. You were—and still are—without a doubt, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. So no, Lovely, I didn’t choose you out of a lineup, but I did choose you out of a stadium full of hundreds. And I’d chooseyou,again and again.”
Layla’s eyes turn glassy, but her lips morph from a small smile to a full-face grin that is so radiant it nearly blinds me. But if that smile is the last thing I see before losing my eyesight, it will be worth it.
Chapter Eighteen
Layla
Is this what newlyweds feel like on their honeymoon? We’ve been in Avon for three nights now, but each one just keeps getting better and better. We don’t have a set agenda, so there’s no rush to be anywhere. Our evenings are spent eating dinner either at the house or out somewhere quiet with mood lighting, followed by fucking until our bodies give out, limbs tangled and sweaty. In the mornings, we wake up slowly; kissing, touching, and making love. The need for food is the only reason we make it out of bed. Once we’re up, we explore the quaint shops or go shelling along the beach. When our mouths aren’t busy tasting each other, we take advantage of the uninterrupted time to get to know one another better. We talk about family traditions, favorite music, bucket lists, and anything else that comes to mind. I’ve learned that sheep farming isn’t just walking around a bunchof white fluff balls carrying a stick and whistling at a dog. While they are a responsibility, they’re also easier to manage than most other farm animals. This doesn’t leave me with a sudden desire to start raising sheep, but I now have more respect for the farmers.
Earlier this evening, we took a blanket from the house and settled on the beach with an array of snacks. The temps started to drop, so I stole Teagan’s hoodie and pulled it on over my tank top. He didn’t object, only giving me a heated look that had my toes curling. After eating, we put everything away and he began firing off question after question about my life in Texas and the first years at UNCW, claiming he’s making up for lost time.
“Tell me about your boyfriends during high school and at UNCW,” he demands.
Groaning, I flop backward on the blanket and stare at the clouds sailing overhead. “There’s not a lot to tell.”
“I still want to know,” he says laying down beside me, lacing his hands behind his head.
“I didn’t really date in high school. I’d have dates for events like prom and homecoming, but nothing more than that.”
“Who was your first?” he asks quietly.
“My first, what? Date?”
“No…,” he draws the word out. “The first one you gave your body to.”
Oh.
“Um…his name was Brian.” I glance over at him to see the muscle in his jaw feather. “We graduated together.”
